14 Weeks (Investigators Book 2), page 8
"How do you even know..." I started, shaking my head at the way she just seemed to have some kind of mom-radar at times.
"Please," she snorted, shaking her head. "If I were twenty years younger..."
"And on that note," I said, giving her my first smile in a week. "Thanks, Ma. For forcing me to do this. I know you're right."
"I always am," she agreed as I let myself out. "Have a good day. Love you."
"Love you too."
With that, she drove off.
And I had to turn and face Tig.
He had been looking down at his phone when we pulled up but when I turned, his focus was on mine. And it was intense. How had I never noticed how he seemed to take in every bit of me at once before? Maybe because the times we were near each other were usually full of more important things to focus on. But I found myself frozen in the spot for a long minute before I forced my legs forward.
He straightened, pushing off the wall and slipping his phone away.
"When the fuck was the last time you ate anything?"
Startled, I jerked back a little.
Then, it came back.
Me.
I came back.
It was that fast.
"Well, good morning to you too, Tig," I said, sticking the key in the lock and going inside, sucking in a deep breath, internally freaking out about all the little things I forgot to consider before. Like caution tape. Like blood stains. Like fingerprint dust.
But when I flicked the light on, there was nothing.
Actually, there was the distinct smell of bleach and disinfectant there that didn't belong. Cass and I had decided that we would sacrifice the luxury of a cleaning crew, doing the cleaning ourselves, because it afforded us the extra cash to open Luxe in a better part of town.
So the clean smell was out of place since Cass was missing and I hadn't been in.
"After the cops released the scene, I cleaned up," Tig offered an explanation without me having to ask. "Didn't want you walking into that when you came back."
That was too good.
A part of me wanted to be mad at him. I wasn't a clingy woman, but I was at least mildly insulted that he did the run and hide thing after one kiss, one dry-humping session. That was chickenshit. And it was insulting. It was also unprofessional since I was paying him to be around.
So him being sweet and thinking of something like that? Yeah, it made it impossible to hold onto the anger.
"Thanks," I offered, moving in, putting my purse on the desk and moving around to the back of the store, going through the motions of opening.
As the minutes passed, I was more and more aware of how much business I had lost by wallowing, by hiding away. It was going to be a tight month. Generally, Luxe was always in the black. There hadn't been a 'just broke-even' month since I first opened.
And Cassie, well, she would have been pissed at me for that.
We put everything into the store.
It was a slap in her face to let it fall by the wayside. It wasn't like I had been out personally tracking down leads, actively trying to find her. I didn't have those skills. No, I had just been lazy and completely submerged in misery.
It wasn't a good enough reason.
"Kenz," Tig said, his voice seeming to hold some sort of warning for reasons I couldn't say.
"What?" I asked, coming out of the back, finding him standing by the desk, brow raised.
"You didn't answer my question."
"I had half a bagel for breakfast."
"And before that?"
"If you must know, not much was staying down," I informed him, going out front and flipping the open sign on the door.
"Kenz..."
His voice was sad, a sound that seemed out of place coming from such a big, intimidating-looking man.
It seemed to pierce somewhere inside, make the place I had locked up my resentment and disappointment toward him away get a crack, allowing the vulnerability to leak out.
Which explained my next comment.
"Where have you been, Tig?"
The silence after I spoke was heavy and long enough to make me turn, lifting my chin a little like my mother always did. Haughty, one of my exes called it. Maybe it was, but I would always prefer looking confident than unsure of myself.
His gaze was focused on me, completely unreadable.
"I needed to focus, honey. I couldn't... I couldn't come to you without fucking anything to bring to you."
Because he thought Cassie was a wedge between us.
"Tig, I know I came to you guys with this, but this..." I waved a hand out, not quite wanting to say it out loud, "this isn't on you."
"I get that, Kenz, but I also know that I can't try to start something here with that between us."
Start something.
I didn't imagine that.
He said that.
So he hadn't stayed away because he was being a pansy about it, regretting it but not having the balls to tell me that. He was staying away because he was worried I would think lesser of him because he couldn't find my missing best friend. Never mind the fact that the entire NBPD couldn't find him or his partners or Breaker's woman or anyone else they might have outsourced to. He was taking the burden onto his own shoulders.
Sweet? Sure.
Misguided? Absolutely.
It hadn't even crossed my mind to think lesser of him because he wasn't some kind of superhero. He was only a man. He could only do so much.
But it truly said something that he saw it that way, that he wanted to try to 'make it right' before starting something. That wasn't something I was sure I had ever come across before. It was refreshingly accountable, mature, strong. Weak men didn't take on burdens unless they had too. Strong men, well, apparently they did.
There was no mistaking that for what it was, for what my mother had called it just a few minutes before- good.
Maybe good was enough of a reason to step out of my comfort zone, to give him a chance.
And seeing as I had never really been a 'wait on a man' kind of woman, I moved across the floor toward him, letting my hip brush his as I moved behind the desk and put my purse underneath, waiting for him to turn, and then cut to the chase myself.
"What are you doing today?"
His brows drew together before he waved an arm around. "Keeping an eye on you."
Perfect.
I felt my lips curve slightly.
"Okay. Then how about you keep an eye on me across the table at Famiglia tonight?"
Realization was a slow-climbing thing on his face.
And when it moved from his eyes to his lips, they twitched slightly.
"Are you asking me out?"
"Are you surprised? Do I seem like someone who can't take what she wants?"
To that, the smile spread, his giant hand raising and rubbing his jaw a bit sheepishly, his mind going exactly where I thought it would- to me grinding on him the week before.
"No, honey, I don't think that is a problem you are afflicted with."
"So are you going to take me out?"
"You gonna make me take you home and sit around for an hour while you get all dolled up?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely. And probably more like an hour and a half. Reese can lend you a book."
To that, he chuckled. It was a low, deep, rolling sound that did all kinds of wild things to my lady bits.
"I got one request then." At my brow raise, he smiled again, all white teeth and charm, making my belly do a completely uncharacteristic flip-flop. "Some of that perfume of yours."
To that, I laughed, finding it easier than I thought I would given the circumstances. "As if I would leave home without it."
It was just after five when I decided to call it a day, having to field questions from customers who knew Cass from the shop and wanted updates and to give their condolences, all things that slowly but surely wore on my nerves and heart.
Tig and I had shared sporadic conversation during the day, between my phone calls and customer-helping.
After about the third woman eye-fucked Tig, I found myself swelling with a feeling that, while not uncommon for me, was strange given the fact that I barely knew Tig. I had no claim to him. But there it was, the swirling sensation in my belly that made me snippy and angry.
Jealousy.
I didn't want them eye-fucking him because I had somehow claimed him as mine.
Completely irrational? Sure.
But true nonetheless.
So I was definitely in the mood to get things moving when I locked up and followed Tig to his SUV where he helped me in because he was one of those guys, got in, and drove to my apartment.
He planted himself on the sofa, occupying himself with his phone while urging me, "Go HAM, honey. I'm sure it'll be worth the wait."
And with expectations like that, well, I had a lot of work to do. Especially given that I had forewent makeup that morning and hadn't bothered with other basic essentials- like eyebrow grooming or shaving, in a week.
I got all that squared away, beat my mug into a date-look, meaning heavy on the smolder and light on the lipstick, so it didn't insinuate I didn't want to be kissed in case he smeared it.
I was buried deep in my closet when Reese came in without knocking as she almost always did, a mug between her hands as she moved to my bed.
"So he's not your type, huh?"
Reese wasn't generally one for teasing, but she had her little-sister moments when she liked to try her hand at it.
"He's just... he has something, y'know?"
"He fixed the dishwasher."
That had me stepping out of my closet in my bra and panties, matching- just in case, with a pile of dresses in my hands.
"Say again?"
"You know that weird rar-rar-whoosh noise it has been making for the past few weeks? Yeah, he heard it, and he went and fixed it. He used a butter knife as a tool, and I maybe wanted to do him right then and there."
That was so unlike Reese that I threw my head back and laughed, doing so until my belly hurt, making my hand rest there for a long minute. "You dirty little slut, you. All it takes is a MacGyver to get the cobwebs out of the downstairs, huh?"
"It hasn't been that long!"
"Oh, girl, it really has been."
"Well, fine. Get me a man who is good with his hands... not like that!" she insisted when my smile went wicked. "You know what I meant."
"Superior finger-fucking skills. Got it. I will keep an eye out."
"I hate you," she declared, cheeks flaming as she climbed off my bed and made her way back into the hall.
"Sure. Now you do. But when I find that man with the magic fingers..."
"Shut up!" she hissed from the hall because I hadn't exactly whispered that last part.
That felt good.
Actually, the whole day felt better.
There was guilt there underneath it all, guilt that if I focused on it, could likely pull me under and drown me, drown everything good that had been growing inside.
But as I slipped into an unusually subdued dress for me, short of hem, but with a high neck with only a slit of mesh across the chest to even hint at cleavage, and full sleeves, perfectly black and unworn since it wasn't my usual style, I remembered one of the last things Cass had said to me the day she was taken- about Tig, about wanting him.
It almost felt right to take a chance on him knowing that she would have approved if she was still around.
So I slipped in some studs, climbed into some ankle-breaker red bottoms that had been a gift from Elsie, Paine's girl, for my last birthday- her being extremely well-off in life and sharing a love of high fashion, spritzed on some perfume, and made my way out.
At the sound of my heels in the hall, Tig's gaze immediately moved from his phone screen, stopping mid-text and putting it away without finishing, something I found refreshing as he slowly unfolded and stood.
"Damn, woman," he said, giving me a slow, appreciative once-over.
I could see the look Reese was giving me, a look I could read thanks to a lifetime of her looks. It said 'that is not your usual first date dress' and maybe even 'I think that might be a sign'.
But then Tig was moving toward me, making her gaze fly away, maybe a bit embarrassed at seeing any kind of affection between people, not generally being in the position to see it in person. His hand reached for my hand and held it out, brow raised.
He wanted me to spin.
And, feeling silly, maybe a bit giddy on the cuteness of it all, I went ahead and did a spin.
"Alright, let's go make a restaurant full of men jealous, shall we?" He asked, and there was the flip-flop feeling again. Maybe it wasn't progressive of me to admit it, but it would be a lie to say that I didn't get all dolled up for him, that it didn't mean something to me that he was proud to have me on his arm. So the fact that he obviously felt that way about me seemed right. "Just got to blow by my place. You can even wait in the car. It'll be five minutes."
It was too.
Five minutes.
On the dot.
He had pulled up in front of what was, well, an old office building. An old office building was 'his place'? It was one of the small ones that maybe housed eight offices max at one time or another, but was obviously not operational as such anymore. He urged me to press the locks then climbed out and disappeared inside.
When he reemerged, I was reminded how unfairly easy it was for men to completely transform. Throw any average Joe in a perfectly tailored suit and they looked like a new man.
Tig though, wow, he had a body meant for hanging a suit. It was those massive shoulders, the long body. He had picked a gray that was so dark it was almost black with a black dress shirt and shoes. Everything fit perfectly, spoke of tailoring because no suit off a rack fit that way. If my eyes were right, which they usually were, it was good quality too.
To put it plainly- he looked good.
Really, really good.
Or, as Cass would put it, fine.
He was damn fine.
And he totally knew that I thought that because he had to tap on the window to remind me to unlock the doors since I had been too distracted ogling him to remember to do so without encouragement.
He climbed in, smelling like cologne, and sent me a smirk. "I can clean up too."
And, because I was me and I wasn't shy, I gave him a smirk back. "You sure can."
With that, we made our way to Famiglia.
Because I had a nice clothes fetish and not many places in Navesink Bank required dressing to the nines, Famiglia was a favorite hot spot of mine. Even if I was just going alone to have a drink at the bar, treating myself after a hard day. It was also where my family and I always chose to celebrate birthdays or business successes. And, well, dates of course.
Everything about Famiglia was sleek and classy from the stocked back bar to the dark decor to the very neat and attractive servers. Though the chick at the hostess podium could go take a damn hike with the way she raked her eyes over Tig even though his hand was situated at my lower back in an unmistakable claim-staking.
I went to school with her and while I genuinely believed in a woman's right to sleep with whoever she wanted to without shame- that shit did not apply to married men. Who she had always had a taste for.
"Eyes over here, babe," I said when she leaned over the podium, making her boobs spill everywhere. Could your tatas be all on display without you looking like a slut? Absolutely. Could she? Not a chance. But that was more because of who she was, not what she wore. "Hi. Eyes off my man or I will tell Luca or Matteo that you are single-handedly at fault for their cousin Bobby's bitter divorce." Tig's chuckle was low as his hand slid from the center of my back to my hip, sinking in, and giving me a delicious little squeeze. "Now that that is out of the way. Reservation for Tig."
While she did hop-to and grab the menus and lead us away toward the tables, perhaps because we had grown up together, she felt she had the freedom to say under her breath, "You don't have to be such a bitch, Kenzi."
"No," I agree, tone normal, "I don't have to be such a bitch, but certain people bring it out of me. Thanks, but we don't need to hear the specials."
"Old friend?" Tig asked, lips twitching as she walked away, putting a little too much sway into her step since Tig's attention was focused entirely on me, where it belonged.
"Just to be clear, it doesn't bother me that a man with me will look at another woman. I think we have established that I am pretty secure. Hell, I might even point out hot women to you from time to time, but what she just did was disrespectful. And I am not someone to let that shit get inside and fester, making me lash out at you when that is misplaced. I'd much rather confront the situation and avoid all that nonsense."
"Kenz," he said, sounding almost gravely serious. "When was the last time a man told you just how fucking sexy that is?"
Unprepared for that, I faltered for a long second before recovering. "Oh, it has to have been at least an hour or so," I quipped.
He smiled at that, making his brown eyes warm. "That's too fucking long. I'll have to set an alarm on my phone to make sure I don't fuck that up again in the future."
I was about to respond to that when the server came over, taking our drink orders. I learned that Tig apparently would not drink wine even if he was dying of thirst and that he just wasn't a big drinker in general, ordering one scotch on the rocks and nursing it throughout the whole meal. I found myself oddly attracted to that, having long since gotten over my own need to get drunk or even tipsy and generally sticking to one glass of wine.
After we had ordered our food, I found myself in the uncomfortable situation of feeling like I needed to scramble for topics for small talk. I usually just went with the flow, knowing that it was always the superficial stuff at first- school, work, mutual acquaintances. And while Tig and I maybe had more people in common than I ever had with a date before, I couldn't seem to find the words.
I found, almost unbelievably, that I was completely intimidated by him. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was some badass PI. So were Sawyer and Brock and I had bullshitted with them on more than one occasion. An argument could even be had for Sawyer being much more formidable of a person. True, he could never talk about the details, but everyone who was anyone knew that Sawyer and Brock had been recruited quickly out of normal military missions and put into black ops. They came back darker than they had been when they left, with more sharp edges, more careless tongues.
